Retire or Retread?

Next Life chapter:  Retire or Retread

What is your next Life chapter?

Now and then, on my way to here and there, I see shells of a tire on the roadside.  Not the whole tire, just a piece of the outside, as if someone cut a ragged slice off of the tread.  Sometimes they are called Road Alligators, but I have always heard them called retreads.  According to Dictionary.com, a retread is a tire that has had a new tread glued onto or cut into the old, worn down surface.  So when a set of automobile tires no longer passes inspection, the owner either re-tires (buys new tires) or retreads.  A retread is also a person retrained for a new job or “a person representing older or previous times, ideas, policies, etc., especially when they are deemed passé or tiresome.”

                Two of the definitions of the word retire are, to remove or withdraw oneself and to quit working or leading an active life due to age.  In two years, I will retire from my position in Granite School District.  I will quit working full time as a Registered Nurse but I have no intention of withdrawing or removing myself from an active life.  I think I’ll retread.  Art classes sound good.  Volunteering in a hospital or school doing “busy work” to free up the Nurses and Teachers is another option.  Or maybe I’ll be a story reader in my local library.  Most of all I intend to be a person who represents older values.  Much older, as in “in the beginning was the word”, especially when they are deemed passé or tiresome.

So, what is your next Life chapter?

 

Happy birthday Mom, do you feel ancient?

I just passed my 60th birthday. It felt like one more page in the story of my life, not even a chapter, only a page. My daughter, 18 years “old”, asked me how it felt to be 60. Other than arthritis, sinus headaches, chronic cough from sinus drainage, sore toe from clutzing and stubbing it, acid indigestion, hand and foot cramps, (at least I’m done with the other cramps, thank heaven) and a constant flow of words in and out of the brain that never make it to the mouth when I need them, Hey, it feels great!

I’m Fine, How are You?
There’s nothing the matter with me,
I’m just as healthy as can be,
I have arthritis in both knees,
And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze.
My pulse is weak, my blood is thin,
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.
All my teeth have had to come out,
And my diet I hate to think about.
I’m overweight and I can’t get thin,
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.
Arch supports I need for my feet.
Or I wouldn’t be able to go out in the street.
Sleep is denied me night after night,
But every morning I find I’m all right.
My memory’s failing, my head’s in a spin.
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.
The moral of this as the tale unfolds,
Is that for you and me, who are growing old.
It is better to say “I’m fine” with a grin,
Than to let people know the shape we are in.
I’m fine, how are you?
(wish I knew who wrote this, I found it on http://www.dennydavis.net/poemfiles/aging2b.htm)

All in all, I simply: Don’t Worry
At age 20 we worry about what others think of us;
At age 40 we don’t care what they think of us;
At age 60 we realize that they haven’t been thinking of us at all.
(again from http://www.dennydavis.net/poemfiles/aging2b.htm)


My Grandmother Morris was born an eldest child in December of 1898 and died November 1994. She knew the first, middle and some last pages of the life stories of siblings, children, grandchildren, greatgrandchildren and greatgreatgrandchildren. She saw, felt and lived an entire history book. She travelled by horse and buggy, train, automobile and watched rockets fly to the moon. She knew the pain and delight of a hard day’s work with crops, farm animals and school children. She collected sagebrush for the fireplace and paid the propane bill for the room heaters. She communicated by word of mouth, telegraph, party line telephone but never computer. She knew how to see each unique sunset, to hear a bird call and name it, to smell a storm or feel a tornado’s approach, to taste the sweetness of crab apple jelly—sweeter because she made it, and to live the experience of standing on a Snake River tributary bridge with a grandchild and see, hear, smell, feel and taste all that entailed.
She taught me more than I can remember. The forgetting does not come from living too long. The forgetting comes from living too long in concrete and steel, too long with instant pudding, ½ hour Sit-coms and texting. It’s time I remembered. I think my next life page will be a different story from this one.

When an 80-year-old widow, Gram shared an anecdote that went something like this:

MY FIVE NEW BOYFRIENDS!
I am seeing 5 gentlemen every day.
As soon as I wake up, Will Power helps me get out of bed.
Then I go to see John.
Then Charlie Horse comes along, and when he is here, he takes a lot of my time and attention.
When he leaves, Arthur Ritis shows up and stays the rest of the day. He doesn’t like to stay in one place very long, so he takes me from joint to joint.
After such a busy day, I’m really tired and glad to go to bed with Ben Gay.
What a life!
Oh, yes, I’m also flirting with Al Zymer and thinking of calling Jack Daniels or Johnny Walker to come and keep me company.

(wish I knew who wrote this one too!)